(y/n) (y/s) is an 18 year-old artist and a childhood friend of Izaya Orihara. After 4 years of living in a different city, (y/n) returns to Ikebukuro to study photography in Raira Academy, with the hope that they'll meet their old friend Izaya again...
A horrible storm poured down on a city, shaking roofs and walls, roaring with thunder. On the hard concrete road of a dark street, close to the loud sea, lay a teenager with (h/l) (h/c) hair, unconscious of their surroundings. They slowly opened their eyes, revealing their (e/c) orbs as they scanned the area. The person took a deep breath, lifted their head and looked around.
"Where am I? What's happening?" they though as they got up. "I'm trapped in a storm? How did I get here...and where is 'here'?" Confusedly, they spun in a circle looking for an answer, until they spotted light in the distance. "Wait, there's the lighthouse! I'll be safe if I can make it there...I hope...please let me make it there..." they worriedly thought to themselves as they put their arm above their face, hoping to block some of the wind and rain, and started walking towards the light. The hill and stairs were steep, and the wind was strong, pushing the hopeless teenager back, but they didn't give up.
As they reached the top of the hill where the lighthouse stood, they look over the edge of the cliff and out into the open sea, seeing a horrifying image "Holy shit..." the person said out loud, staring at the gigantic tornado, hurricane even, carrying trees, boats and parts of buildings with its winds like mighty arms. The teenager couldn't believe their eyes as the storm moved closer and closer to a a large city near the sea. Suddenly, the storm with one of its powerful arms of wind threw a boat at the lighthouse, and after the horrible noise of a building getting damaged, the lighthouse broke in two and began falling onto the person. "No!" they called out, outstretching their arms as if they could stop the lighthouse from falling. The lighthouse fell, everything went dark and the person lifted their head from their desk.
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"Whoa..." they quietly said to themselves as they looked around: they were in class, sitting behind their desk. "That was so surreal..." they thought as the teacher continued with his lecture, as if one of their students didn't just wake up from a freakishly realistic dream.
"Alfred Hitchcock famously called film, 'little pieces of time' but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was." The teenager didn't pay attention as they worriedly scanned the class, looking at as many things they can: the clock ticking, a girl picking up her pen from the ground, and another girl throwing a crumpled piece of paper at another one. "Ok, I'm in class...everything's cool...I'm ok..." they reassured themselves in their head. The teacher continued:
"These pieces of time can frame us in their glory and our sorrow; from light and shadow; from colour to chiaroscuro. Now, can anyone give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white..." One of the girls phone buzzes, taking the persons attention and throwing them back into their original train of thought. "I didn't fall asleep and...that sure didn't feel like a dream...weird..."
